The brain, body and soul of the man I remember

I remember the first time I dumped analysis on your head.

It was after you left Naples the first time. I thought I would not see you again.

We had the tinknptr gmail account. We’d named it that way because I called you "Peter Pan" when I Skyped you from my conference in Germany. Something about you seemed so “second star to the right and straight on till morning” to me. And I would have followed you to Neverland (I would have followed you anywhere). And you called me Tink (which was appropriate, because I have no interest in being Wendy). But then you said it was because I had Julia Roberts’ bottom. And now I think it is because, if it ever came to it, I would drink poison for you.  I think that I did. I think that I do.

I was in the middle of tremendous heartache. It was the beginning of December and I was supposed to spend Sinterklaas in Haarlem with Hans. I wasn’t sure what I should do. Hans was my rock; the caretaker of my soul. We’d been together for nearly two years. He had been the most tender and beautiful relationship in my life and I loved him so much. He had put his condo on the market to be sold so that he could move to Italy and work on our relationship. We were going to get married in Italy. Before I met you I would have happily married him. But I loved you. Meeting you changed everything for me.

It changed everything for you, as well. In December, you wrote to me from Doorn. You said: “I will be very honoust with you. I wanted you to leave me alone. I thought things could be the same as they were. Something inside me changed. I don't know if I want it to change back, and I doubt the possibilities. Secretly I fantasise about seeing you again, knowing it will not be possible on short notice. I thought it would be good to cool down, to let things be. Instead I am breaking and have broken every rule I had and that has been enforced upon me. Worst of all is that I don't feel bad about it. It is you I fear most. Don't feel bad, feel strong. You are in my heart no matter what happens, always.”

I was trying to analyze things because my heart hurt too badly to understand what step to take next. I thought that I should be able to stand back at a distance and make a decision from my head because I was in such grieving. I am a physicist. I analyze everything. I wrote some of my analysis to you in an e-mail message (with bullet points - because I'm analyst!).  And then I decided that I ought to retract it, or at least apologize. I have always had to apologize for thinking. I read so much, Sjors. I take down five or six books a week. And I always have five or six projects I’m working on. When I’ve dated men or make friends, or even have projects at work, I downplay these facts, or hide them. Most people don’t like the way I dig deeply or want to understand everything or can’t stop my brain from consuming and creating. I think I make people uncomfortable when I let them see who I am. Not you.

You wrote this message to me:

“My dearest dearest Tinker Bell,

1. STOP APPOLOGISING FOR YOUR BRAIN ACTIVITY. I LIKE IT. I LOVE IT. IT IS PRECISELY THAT THAT MAKES YOU YOU. DON'T BE SORRY FOR BEING YOU.

2. I largely agree with your assessments. I do have some small modifications which I will let you know later.

3. Read remark 1 again!”

I kept this message (of course, I kept every message from you). It amazed me. There was something about it – and every conversation we’d ever had – that made me understand the truth: you saw me. Not the person I needed to show to the world: the edited, softer, more reserved person. You saw ME. I could be as loud and bright and analytical as I really am around you. I could be as full of dreams and ambition and hope and idealism as I really am. You were not afraid of me. At all. You didn't need to make me smaller to fit into some preconceived notion of "feminine". I didn't need to be a shy violet around you. It didn't threaten your manhood when I fought for things. You wanted my mind. You loved my mind.

You challenged and pushed me. Your mind was as quick as mine. You matched me move for move. Sometimes we fought because we both thought we had the "best" way for doing things. Once, when you were checking in at the airport (it was a tight moment at the Rome FCO) you directed me to "stay put" in the car. Of course, I did my own calculation and decided that there was a greater risk of missing a goodbye with you if I didn't try for a parking spot fast. I remember how pissed we were at each other - YOU: because you thought you were right and I'd disobeyed you, and ME: because I thought I was right and because you expected me to obey you!

Sometimes (particularly when we were apart for a long period) you seemed to forget this about me. It was always a bit shocking to both of us when we came together again and saw that the other person was our intellectual mirror - not the same skills or the same interests. But the same intellectual curiosity and passion and brightness. I loved that you understood and accepted me for my brain. It was not a detriment to you. You loved it! It was so inspiring to me to be able to write what I thought on our shared account and not edit myself, and to learn that you liked what I wrote.

There were other aspects of me which I also tended to hide or minimize - and which you called out and loved. I remember how enraptured you were about my least-favorite physical trait: my bottom. God, how strange that was to me. I suppose we all dislike things about our bodies - so I thought you were making fun of me when you first told me I had the "most beautiful bottom in the world". But you weren't. You just liked it. You liked my entire body. Maybe it was strange for me, as well, because I thought your body was amazing. There was not a single inch of you I didn't want to caress and touch and learn and taste. It wasn't because you were new and interesting to me (I have never experienced this with another man, before or since). I just loved every part of you: body, mind, spirit. It was amazing to me that you felt the same way about me. When we made love, I felt like the lines of my self became blurred and took you in completely. I think you felt the same way. Once, on Skype you told me, "When I see you, I want to be with you. When I'm with you, I want to touch you. When I touch you I want to make love to you." I felt the same way. And I felt one step further: when I made love to you, I wanted to be part of you.

In messages to me, you called me, “My dearest, precious most beautiful irresistable impossible Elisabeth” and I called you, “Most fantastic, delightful, elusive, adored Sjors”.

I became so sad after I ended things with Hans. I understand now that the sadness of that loss haunts me to this day. But immediately afterwards, it was acute. I would hold myself very still because I felt sure that something would break if I moved. I felt that the world was brittle and would shatter around me. Shortly afterward, you flew to Naples to see me. I had given up the most important thing in my life because I loved you and you needed me to know that you were married. You told me the conditions of your marriage, and that you had made a mistake. You told me you would end things and be with me. I needed your reassurances, but it was such a shock to me. So soon on the heels of the loss of Hans, this double loss began to work its damage. In early December, we were Skyping and your kids were around - I could hear them playing in the background. I was trying to be cheerful but I felt so heavy and tired. My head drooped to the arm of the couch. I was embarassed that I couldn't "pull myself together". I remember how kind you were. You wrote me a message afterwards, articulated what you felt:

"What happened yesterday during the skypecall I think has never happened to me before. I thought that I could feel what you felt. Not empathy, it was more than that. I can empathise, I do empathise, I can offer comfort or feel verry sorry for people and I can feel the desire to act in order to make a contribution to improvement. But now I thought, I imagined I could feel you, Your pain, doubt and helplessness. You didn't ask for this, why did it happen to you? Did I make the right decisions? How will it end? You need something to rely on and it fails you that. Your family is dear to you but it is impossible to turn to them for support, you ended your relationship with Hans, a decision that was huge and you start to doubt when things get emotionally bad and I am here but you feel you can't rely on me. I am only here when possible, I can not really be there for you when you need me. You don't want to say that to me because you don't want to make me feel bad but somewhere inside you feel a combination of anger and helplessess about it. Altogether this has caused a depression. I not only understand that, I imagined I could feel that. I also realised that I can not give you now what you so desperately need. That really hurt me because you, of all people, deserve it so much. And I want to give you too."

You were not offended that I was sad. You did not need me to be different - you loved me so much that you felt my sadness. 

This was the Sjors I knew: you loved me because I was me. You didn't need me to be different than I was. You loved my mind for what it was. You loved my body as it was. And I could be as sad or happy as I really was and not pretend to be different. How strange it is that we walk around in life only showing people the things about us that we think we can handle. We edit ourselves to fit other people's expectations. And then how amazing it is to find another person who is able to see all those things that everyone else misses - and who loves all the parts of us we usually hide. The Sjors I knew loved every part of me because it was me. And I loved every part of you because it was you.